


Blood is the Life

by AleksanteriAgitshev, bethfury



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 05:23:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AleksanteriAgitshev/pseuds/AleksanteriAgitshev, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethfury/pseuds/bethfury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A broken wagon wheel, a creepy old porter, and a town where no one goes out at night, King Alistair and his Queen take their honeymoon tour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A very special thanks to our collaborators janiejanine and epsilonshawn who were wonderful, supportive, and created amazing work. 
> 
> Fanmix by [janiejanine](http://archiveofourown.org/works/566033)  
> Art by [epsilonshawn](http://archiveofourown.org/works/569519)

“Was this your idea?” Alistair raised an eyebrow at his wife, who was sitting lightly on their bed as he paced the room, “Has the castle already gotten boring?”  
  
He had returned from a morning meeting with the local Elven leaders to find the entire castle in an uproar, furiously preparing for some sort of large trip. It was no surprise when he realized that his wife was at the center of the maelstrom, serving as conductor for the current day’s chaos.  
  
The Warden shrugged nonchalantly, “It could have been, it is so hard to remember with all of the wedding plans and parties and constant observation from palace staff.”  
  
He caught her gaze as the servants continued to bustle behind them packing their trunks and she met it with an innocent smile, standing to close the space between them. Her hands fell daintily on his waist, the violet Orlesian silk of her dress light and soft against his arms. Her small frame breathed in deeply and he found himself mimicking the action to smell the flowers laced through her hair.  
  
She had let it grow long since starting life in the castle, learning to construct intricate braids that caused auburn curls on her pillow at night. Alistair liked to be the one to help unwind the plaits, running his fingers through its length and to let them dance at the base of her neck.  
  
“Some warning would’ve been nice,” he murmured, resting his chin on her head and remembering that sensation, “Will we be gone long?”  
  
“Would you prefer the best case scenario, almost true version, or the probable worst case answer?” she ducked her head, laying a heavy kiss against his throat. He shuddered softly, as the chambermaid giggled and ran from the room.  
  
“The lie please,” he requested, as she pulled away to perch again on the bed.  
  
Elissa leaned back against the velvet of the duvet, tilting her head as Alistair began pacing again. She slowly removed her slippers, resting her bare feet on their bed frame. He met her eyes expectantly, as she paused to gather her thoughts.  
  
“We’ll be home in two weeks, only staying in well-appointed estates with a small group of guards to accompany us,” she started, placing a bright smile on her face, “Very few large parties, mostly just political meetings and small fancy meals.”  
  
“Now I would like the truth,” he crossed his arms, taking a seat on the window sill. She pursed her lips slightly, and he watched her thought process dance over her face. Alistair loved this progression she took from ideal message to his quick acceptance of it. It always reminded him of who the true politician was in their family. The lie always came quicker than the truth she needed him to accept.  
  
“We’ll be home in two months, will be staying in questionable inns, with a full platoon to accompany us,” she kept on the bright smile from the first message, “We’ll have several balls to attend and have to ride within the carriage the entire time.”  
  
“The only way you could make that worse is if you said we had to have a personal guard and I couldn’t wear armor and only had the formal-wear the entire time,” he started to laugh as she cast her eyes onto the ground.  
  
He hated that pause. It seemed unique to just him, a pause taken right before someone said his name and reminded him of Wynne scolding him for being too clever for his own good sometimes.  
  
“Alistair-,” she started as the color began to leave his face, “Leliana will be accompanying us as our personal guard and you will need to wear royal vestments throughout the trip.”  
  
“But-,” he started, holding up his hands in protest.  
  
She cut him off quickly, “The villagers will be expecting all of the pomp and circumstance.”  
  
“Leliana?” he tried to start his complaints again, before she raised her hand to silence him.  
  
Elissa shook her head, “We are bringing a guard and she needs more material for her first royal ballad.”  
  
“This is a unique honeymoon,” he responded, moving across the room to sit beside her, “I have a chaperone with a lute the entire time while wearing uncomfortably fancy clothing.”  
  
They had been married publically earlier the same month in a ceremony that had been planned by the Arl and Bann Teagan in secret starting directly after the Landsmeet. Elissa’s brother came to walk her down the aisle and the city had celebrated for a week straight with well-wishers and Wardens from throughout the Thedas.  
  
They had been married privately the night he took the throne and she had leapt into his free arm after the Sister bound the golden cord around their wrists to sanctify the marriage. The Sister had cleared her throat to break the kiss before Wynne and Leliana had begun laughing together. Elissa had placed her ring on a golden chain provided by Wynne, to keep close to her heart before the public ceremony.  
  
But after both of the weddings, she had kept it on the chain, braided and woven intricately across her neck. Alistair had gotten her another ring to wear for appearances, a shimmering pearl procured by Isabela as a late engagement gift.  
  
He had taken to pulling the first ring out from her dress and letting it dance between his fingers as she rested her head on his shoulder. She smiled as he did it again, “It will be a lovely honeymoon and Leliana will provide us ample privacy.”  
  
Alistair chuckled guiltily, letting his hand fall to her knee, “Thank the Maker you are my wife or I would be struck dead after the thoughts I have of you.”  
  
“Mary Alice!” Elissa yelled out, pushing Alistair’s hand off, “Could you come back and continue helping me pack?”  
  
He made a disappointed groan, standing up from the bed and smoothing out his trousers, “You are an evil woman.”  
  
The chambermaid quickly scurried back into the room with an additional set of gowns, “Lady Leliana has arrived with the guards and they are ready to start bringing your bags down when you are ready.”  
  
Elissa smiled and nodded as Mary Alice continued packing around the room. Turning to Alistair, “Love, could you be a dear and go check with your lead porter that your armor is packed with our luggage in the second carriage? Just in case you know.”  
  
“Wait, how soon are we leaving?” Alistair asked as the guards began marching in the room to carry out their parcels.  
  
“Directly after dinner,” Elissa answered, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek, “So please be quick about it.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I’ve never seen a wheel just shatter like that before! Half of it’s in splinters just from a little divot?” Alistair knelt on the ground, picking up a toothpicks’ worth of wood between his fingers.  
  
“King Alistair, it is almost six hands across! You should have slowed down,” Leilana shook her head, palms on her lap as she leaned over.   
  
While he appreciated her use of his noble title, he appreciated less that he was sure he would never be allowed to take over the carriage again. It had just been too many beautiful vistas, too few darkspawn, and the mountain path was just begging for galloping horses. He also made a mental note to learn how to drive a carriage in the future.  
  
“Are you going to put this into the royal ballad?” Alistair turned to walk back to the soldiers who were busy watching the Warden attempt to will the wagon wheel to fix itself. They turned at once to look at him, all of the men with matching smirks and his wife with a familiar smile that Alistair hadn’t seen this their first journey together.   
  
“She always did love an adventure,” he thought, obscuring his overwhelming happiness to be trapped in the wilderness far away from anyone needing him to wear velvet or address him as my liege.   
  
Even if it did look like a place that Morrigan would frequent.   
  
“But your loving public must know that even a King makes mistakes” Leilana smiled, speaking in all seriousness without a hint of contained laughter. “Don’t worry, I’m sure something more glorious will happen soon, and I simply won’t have room for it.”  
  
Soldiers and staff snapped up straight and saluted their sheepish King, who cleared his throat and attempted to be proud and commanding.  
  
“So, how soon can we get back on the road?” Alistair asked casually, kicking at the dirt.  
  
One of the unarmed men who had accompanied them, the carpenter the Warden had insisted on, stepped forward with a raised hand.  
  
“We have a replacement for the wheel my lord, but the axle has been damaged, which will take time to repair.”   
  
As he spoke, Elissa stepped off of the mangled carriage, and frowned, “It doesn’t appear that we will arrive at our host’s manor before nightfall, I’m afraid.”  
  
“Well, that’s no good,” Alistair pouted a bit, “this is how those pithy little titles get added to your name in the history books. King Alistair the Tardy or perhaps the Dawdling Ferelden.”  
  
“Dear, I’m fairly certain that being King Alistair the Grey Warden will take precedence over your questionable punctuality,” the Queen gave him a slight pat on the shoulder in conciliation.  
  
“Sir, a horse and carriage approaches from the road in the opposite direction,”  one of the guards quickly spoke as the others moved to Alistair’s side.  
  
Four regal ebony-black stallions pulled an aging and drably painted coach, fast approached in a canter. The driver, a hunched and pale old man, snapped his whip from atop a cushioned perch.   
  
Alistair’s guards fanned out in a loose defensive formation, as the driver yanked the reins hard, coming to a full stop in front of him. Leliana and the Warden moved to circle the new arrival as Alistair pulled his sword at the ready.   
  
They eyed the solid wooden hood, once painted a brilliant gold and burgundy, now yellowed with age. Now nearer to take in details, the driver’s tall still black collar cast shadows on the sharp angles of his face, the long stiff sleeves of his jacket betraying their antiquated design. He removed his hat to reveal a pallored face and receding hairline, long wispy strands of white hair flowing down over padded shoulders.   
  
“Ah, King Alistair, come all the way from Denerim. I was told you’d be needing a ride.” His voice crackled through pale lips, with total confidence and nonchalance.   
  
Alistair responded immediately, with perhaps less royal dignity than he’d like in retrospect, “You were...what? But we just broke down! Who told you that?”  
  
“The master, Fridric of course. I understand you’ll be staying with him during your visit here,” he announced assuredly, saying his master’s name with reverence and pride.   
  
Alistair nodded slowly in agreement at the old man’s statement before catching himself with a shake of the head, “That’s right. I mean, yes, he wrote to express his insistence that we stay at his household, which I graciously accepted.”   
  
The old man gave him a bit of a look, as if mildly surprised at the King of Ferelden’s odd manner.  
  
“Now, I’m afraid I wasn’t told how large your entourage would be, you’ll have to forgive me your highness, but the carriage is built for comfort and not capacity, so I’ve only room for two,” he glanced over his shoulder towards the mountain path he had just taken. He looked back at the group impatiently, awaiting their decision.   
  
Elissa stepped forward, placing one foot gingerly on the hanging step just below the carriage door.  
  
“That is very considerate of our host Ser. Might we know your name?” she glanced up at the driver, sharing a warm smile that had disarmed scores of weary townsfolk or disagreeable noble in the past.  
  
“Where are my manners?” he said with a laugh, slapping himself on his forehead, “Right out the door in the presence of a beautiful woman. I am Percival, servant to Master Fridric.”   
  
“Very nice to meet you Percival, I am Queen Elissa Cousland, Duchess of Amaranthine,” the Warden Commander responded with a slight curtsy and polite smile. The soldiers matched Alistair’s unease at the way the porter stared at the Queen, but the she silenced their concerns with her genial introduction and manner.  
  
“We must be on our way then, it would be ungracious not to accept your ride for only two and I’m sure your master is waiting,”  She opened the door and stepped inside, being assisted halfway by her slightly confused husband. A member of their personal guard lifted some of their luggage into the appropriate covered compartment at the carriage’s back.  
  
He couldn’t help but notice her give a second look at her gloved hand, and the thick dust she’d acquired there from touching the handle. Leilana drew close to Alistair, up against the carriage and out of the porter’s view.  
  
“We’ll be fine here, and so will you, King Alistair,”  she gave him a wink and a slight nod of her head towards the back of the wagon.  
  
“Wait, why did you w-,” he was silenced with a playful shush as the Bard made her way towards the end of the carriage.  
  
“All right then, I have my precious cargo now, ” the porter said, “so please climb on in and I will turn her around.”   
  
Alistair moved to do just that, before remembering he had a cluster of soldiers and staff that should probably be addressed.   
  
“I will see you shortly men, make camp if you can’t finish the repairs before nightfall, and you there, Grandville, open up one or two of those bottles from Jader and treat yourselves.”  
  
As the carriage's fine horses turned a wide arc to return to the town, Leilana crept behind. As the wagon began to accelerate, she hopped onto the back, evading the notice of the porter.  
  
The interior of the coach matched its exterior, once grand and beautiful, now musty and faded. It appeared to be created with opulence and comfort in mind, even if the down cushions seemed dusty and unused. Alistair thought to look out the windows to know their path, but both were surprised to see the inside of the carriage full blacked out from the outside world besides a small slit that appeared to give them the ability to speak to the driver.   
  
Alistair breathed deeply, “Hm. Has anyone ever told you that something smelled like old people? That’s what it’s like in here.”  
  
“You don’t want him to hear you,” she said with a whisper and a laugh.    
  
“Yes, I do,” Alistair corrected her, “He was flirting with my wife, the dirty old codger.”


	3. Chapter 3

Hours had seemed to fall away during the carriage ride, and Alistair could only tell the passing of time by how hungry he was becoming. From the small window to the driver, he could barely make out the road flying by and he couldn’t nap due to the sheer speed Percival seemed to be taking each turn.   
  
“If my stomach can measure how long we’ve been driving,” Alistair started, stretching his legs over his wife’s lap, “I’m rather sure we’ve been traveling for the better part of a week.”  
  
Elissa chuckled, “We’ve been driving for about 4 hours, but I did plan for this.” She dug around in her small bag before revealing a small loaf of bread and an apple. Alistair grabbed it and downed it quickly, as she pulled out a matching set having prepared for the situation.  
  
“Well, this is certainly one of the farthest stops for our goodwill trip. What made you pick this one?” Alistair asked as they hit another bump in the road and were nearly flung off of their seat.  
  
“I thought this stop was one of Bann Teagan’s additions,” Elissa looked at him slightly confused, “I didn’t think we had another stop for at least two days.”  
  
“This won’t do. I’ll embarrass myself not knowing the name of the town our host calls home,” Alistair said, sitting back up and returning to the driver’s window.   
  
“Ho there, Percival, what’s the name of our destination?” Alistair asked over the clatter of the horses’ hooves.  
  
“Name, your highness?” Percival yelled back.  
  
Alistair sighed, “Yes, what do you call it?”  
  
“We call it the village, King Alistair,” he answered matter-of-factly.  
  
“Well, who founded it?” Alistair asked, searching for any information.  
  
“I wasn’t here for that Ser,” Percival responded.  
  
“Who invited you to move in?” Alistair tried to probe deeper.  
  
“I’ve always been here Ser,” Percival answered confusedly, turning back to give Alistair a polite grin.  
  
“Right. Very good then.” The King very calmly sat back down, confused and at a lack for words. He was surprised to see the Queen looking concerned at the conversation.  
  
“Why haven’t we stopped yet?,” she said softly, her face growing worried. “Or heard a thing? You’d think we’d be able to hear something or that we would almost be there by now.”  
  
“This is the country, maybe they’re just already sleeping so they can start in the fields before dawn tomorrow.” Alistair said, convincing not even himself.  
  
Deciding not to wait for the carriage to arrive at its destination, Leliana let go of the wagon’s rear, and quietly tumbled to the ground, darting behind a white-flowered hedge. She circled the house the spring blackthorn surrounded, thinking about Elissa’s overheard anxious questions.   
  
The Bard could detect no movement, no candle light, and no voices filling the houses of the village. She moved down the main street, shadowing the driver’s path, and not looking a bit out of place doing it due to the lack of audience. She paused briefly as it became easier to hear the old man’s low voice in the stillness of the night and slowing horses’ gait.  
  
“Pardon your Lord and Ladyship, but I’ll be dropping you both off at the main hall, let you in, and ring for the maid. Then I’ll be off to mind your men, King Alistair, and show them where my master has set aside space on his property for them to make camp.”   
  
The village began to fade amidst a cluster of trees and an expanse of rolling hills. The land before them appeared to be good hunting grounds, sheltered by the valley and far enough away from civilizations. As they turned off the dusty commoner road onto a better maintained and more narrow curving private path, Alistair cracked open the door and could see in the distance several corbels of the roof stretching out, a home as impressive as he had ever seen amongst the noble compounds in Denerim and nearly matching his own estate in size.  
  
“Yes, very good Percival, we appreciate it.” Alistair fiddled with the officer’s sabre at his belt, tilted across his back to lie on the seat behind him.  
  
“The maid’s to show us to our rooms, then it doesn’t sound like we’ll be meeting the master tonight.” Elissa whispered, adding emphasis to the last part playfully.  
  
“So the master told him to head on out after us, and then put himself to bed shortly afterwards? Sounds like we have an exciting stay in store with assigned bedtimes,” Alistair responded just as quietly, patting his thigh in self-amusement.   
  
The carriage passed a small shack on the road positioned in front of a stone wall. An iron gate hung open at an entrance, allowing them to continue to the frontdoor. No one came out to greet them from the guard’s stand, and the shack’s door and window were open, revealing a dark but apparently empty structure. Alistair wondered what the purpose of a gate was that wasn’t closed, and had no one there to mind.  
  
Leliana had dropped back from the carriage, taking her time to survey the estate. She stepped into the edge of the heavy woods not too far away, moving gingerly across the soft forest earth. Long, languid shadows ran in front of her, and a wolf howled piercingly somewhere deep within the valley. It only quickened her movements, and in little time, she would see the trees break before a sloping expanse of garden surrounding an elevated statuary. There was something familiar about the design specifically, but the landscaping style was old Orlesian.  Leliana pressed onward to its entrance singularly focused, drawn in as thoughts of the Wardens and what she was just doing just were lost to the night air.  
  
The private road ended, and the carriage turned in a wide circle so that they were facing the door, intricately carved in a deep rich wood and foreboding in its sheer size. Alistair quickly hopped out of the carriage, and ran to open the opposite door for his Queen. Once again, not a soul was to be found, no doorman, no guards, just marble statues serving as silent sentries for the entrance.   
  
Winged children chased each other in a circle, their little stone robes flowing behind them with ivy lacing around their tiny fingers. Large grotesque gollum-like creatures hiding in shadows and peering through the night at the new arrivals.   
  
Percival hopped down from the bench with surprising agility, and pulled out a metal wad of keys, making a beeline for the door. He untangled one end of the chain and let them all drop, revealing that they were tied to the metal links in an even distribution. He put the key at the end through the top lock, then two more going straight down. Only until all three were inside did he begin to turn them one by one. Elissa and Alistair stood behind him as he shoved the heavy barred wood open, the King making a hesitant motion as if to help. The old man seemed not to mind, nor need it, and the dimly lit interior of the manor opened as he undid the keys and walked inside.  
  
“Hm now, where’s that bell? Ah yes, here we are,” The chime sat atop a small cherry wood table, and Percival gave it a vigorous shake,”I’m certain that Lucretia will be here to tend to you very shortly. Good evening!”   
  
Without waiting for a reply, the old man darted back outside, closing the doors behind him. Illuminated by lanterns and candelabras, light flickered on their faces, softening the eerie sterile atmosphere. The stale quiet of the cavernous main hall encircled the couple, as they waited.   
  
And waited.  
  
The garden outside was just as quiet, save for a single nightingale that Leliana could never quite seem to locate. The shrubbery was not unlike a maze, and featured the occasional and maddening dead end. Despite the frustration, she continued on, lured by the sweetness of the nighttime air, rich in the scent of primrose and lilies.   
  
The persistence paid off, and the thick sculpted greenery broke, revealing the heart of the statutary. There seemed to be some kind of theme tying the statues together, not a battle, but perhaps a sort of motionless military parade. A dark figure stood amongst them, leaning against the figure of a tall feminine warrior, wild hair flying stiffly in an invisible wind, a massive axe in hand. He turned, revealing a handsome face, made bright in the heavy moonlight. His long jacket swept across the stone warrior’s legs, and he seemed to grow in stature as he faced Leliana, a gentle smile welcoming her to his grounds.  
  
“Good evening, my beautiful lady. I’m so glad you could find your way to me.”


	4. Chapter 4

After ten minutes had passed, and Alistair had been persuaded not to try ringing the bell again, the pair noticed they were both wandering around the great hall. The carpet was thick and intricately woven, the furnishings expensive but almost hostile in design and lack of comfort, and two small doors were hidden by shadows behind the double staircase. Upon closer examination, they found them to be sealed with padlocks that Alistair could barely fit in one hand.   
  
Neither dared to speak, as they continued the mischief of poking around someone’s house you were invited into, but left to your own devices. Eventually, Alistair crept close to the Warden, and whispered conspiratorially to her.  
  
“You don’t suppose they gave Lucretia the night off?” he grinned, making eyes at the staircase, or either of the two doorways leading to other places on the ground floor.  
  
“I can’t imagine she’s the only member of the staff here.” Elissa whispered right back, “Not to mention this Fridric’s family or other guests.”  
  
"I feel staircase-envy," Alistair smirked, raising his voice slightly, "No one will take the King seriously if my staircase isn't even half as big."  
  
“Didn’t you go on the other week about how you feel undignified walking down steps in front of a crowd?” Elissa said, challenging him with a smile.  
  
“No man looks proper descending stairs. We aren’t built right for it,” Alistair seemed to take this very seriously, as he had done with every other previous argument on the topic.  
  
“You’re certainly built right for ascending them though. I can vouch for this as the person who often follows behind.” Elissa caught herself having too much joy in teasing him, when something thumped behind one of the hall’s inner locked doors. They both froze in place, scanning the room quickly for the source.  
  
A moment passed, and nothing followed. The Warden stalked closer to the flat panel of wood, as if to put her ear upon it when it opened suddenly, causing her to leap backwards like a wolf ready to fight. Leliana was standing on the other side, not startled herself, but instead sedated, moving slowly into the main hall. From the first step, Alistair found her usual grace missing, as if lost somewhere on the journey between the wagons and the manor.  
  
“Oh,” Leliana took a long pause, looking back and forth between the pair.   
  
Her eyes followed around the room, lazily moving from corner to corner before she seemed to remember to continue her thought.  
  
“I am sorry, I did not mean to startle you,” she mumbled, moving towards a chair against the wall, “I had to slip through the window.”  
  
“When we didn’t see you there as the wagon turned back, I had wondered where you’d gotten to,” Elissa said as she smoothed out her dress and breathed her composure back in, “Have you seen anyone here? It appears we’ve been dropped off to an empty household.”  
  
“Seen anyone?” there was a pause, as if Leliana had to consider it for a moment, “No, I don’t recall having seen a single person. Just some statues. I parted ways while your carriage was still in the village.”  
  
Alistair took the opportunity to take a peek down the hallway that she had come from, finding only some small tables and doorframes barely visible in the darkness.  
  
“I don’t know about you two, but I’m feeling a little restless. And also, what if something is wrong, and someone needs rescuing? We can’t do any rescuing standing here waiting for the maid.” Alistair said, looking hopeful that his suggestion sounded more earnest than he really felt.  
  
“Normally I would suggest this was just an capricious lord with a lazy house staff,” Elissa moved to help Leliana into the chair, “But I’m concerned something isn’t right.”  
  
Leliana waved her away, leaning back against the cushion, “Tsk, I am fine, just tired from the journey and very hungry. I feel I could eat an entire sow.”  
  
Alistair’s face soured, “While that is a lovely mental picture, I feel that we should probably go.”  
  
“Serah, don’t go,” a voice called from behind him, “The master sent me to check in on you.”  
  
“Lucretia?” Elissa asked as Alistair turned to see a petite blonde woman wearing an outfit as antiquated as the porter’s.   
  
“Yes my Queen,” Lucretia curtsied, “Although only Percy calls me that, you can call me Lucie.”  
  
“Nice to meet you Lucie,” Elissa warmly approached her, motioning for Alistair to follow.  
  
Lucie gave him a matching curtsy, “So pleased to meet you King Alistair, the master has been so excited for you to arrive.”  
  
Alistair smiled cautiously, “I am sorry to bring a guest unannounced, she is my wife’s personal friend.”  
  
“The master told us to expect three guests,” Lucie smiled back, “Please follow me into the dining room.”


	5. Chapter 5

“The master is completing some business, and will be down to join you shortly. He is certain you are hungry from the road, and wishes that you begin without him.”  
  
The unexpected smell of far too much rich and recently served food had hit them before even opening the door. Being served his meals in a similar fashion was something that Alistair had adjusted to easiest of all life changes that came with his crown, so it was perhaps not a surprise that he walked right up to the long table. Eating was serious business for the head of state.   
  
Alistair turned to respond to the maid, but found that no one was there to acknowledge.  
  
“Bann Teagan always said a good house staff should be quick and difficult for guests to notice,” he muttered to himself, having little difficulty being distracted by his unease at Lucretia’s covert exit.  
  
Casseroles, roasts, soups, souffles, and fresh breads still breathed steam into the air, which Alistair took in with an exaggerated respiration. His shoulders hunched forward, palms resting on the linen tablecloth, and the Warden knew what would come next. Leliana took a seat near the table’s end, slumping slightly in her chair. The two of them were his only audience for this display, as the hall, other than the impressive table setting, was empty of people or evidence of their passing.   
  
“What are you doing? That could all be poisoned, or cursed, or filled with pointy traps!” Elissa marched around to his left, craning her neck to get into his field of vision. The King of Ferelden was very focused on one plate in particular, and named it as one might a new member of his court.  
  
“Cheese.”   
There was a lot of it. The good kind, too, smelly but not too much. Clearly not Anders in origin.  
  
“I know you are at least as willing to risk hazard and ill manners for my safety as you are for clotted milk, so if you catch some sort of demonic dairy sickness I’ll be left to fend for myself.”  
  
“Cheese. We will meet again, on some other field of battle. Mark my words,” he turned to her, stepping away from the table’s edge.   
  
She rolled her eyes and squeezed his shoulder as she began to pace the perimeter of the room.  
  
“It’s very aristocratic, or pretending to be.” Elissa stood in front of the empty fireplace, resisting the urge to draw her finger across the dusty mantle top. “No ash, and no grate. It’s been used, but not for a long time. They take every measure to display their wealth, but what sort of lord in the country doesn’t have a roaring fire to impress the guests and warm the house.”  
  
“The same kind that has a castle full of dust and musty old furniture and has a staff that calls them master,” Alistair said with an almost defensive tone, “Who never goes out in the daylight and probably places well-designed ditches into the road to stop kings that do know how to drive a carriage.”  
  
Elissa looked at him, leaning against the wall, “Alistair, I’m not sure now is a time for stories.”  
  
“Yes, stories!,” Leliana perked up at the reference, “Alistair, tell us a story.”  
  
“This is not a story my Queen,” Alistair defended his claim, “You fight dragons and demons and you think this is a story.”   
  
“So tell me your theory,” she met his eyes, “what sort of noble is this?”  
  
“The vampire sort,” he proclaimed loudly, “this is clearly the mansion of some ancient vampire lord, like an Arl of the Night, or a Baron of Blood or something sanguine-related. Do you think vampires collect taxes? Actually, I should ask if they pay them, they’re on my side of the border.”   
  
Queen Cousland had already moved back to the table, shaking her head, “This banquet table isn’t setting off your almost-Templar sense? It must be some sort of magic.”  
  
“I’m afraid that arcane dinner service was pretty advanced in the curriculum,” he shook his head, taking a seat at the head of the table and spearing a piece of meat.  
  
“Are you really going to eat?” Elissa asked surprised as he began cutting the beef.  
  
“Are you really asking me that question?” Alistair said chewing loudly, “Besides, wouldn’t it be rude not to eat if this isn’t just a kindly elderly landowner?”  
  
Elissa pursed her lips before sitting in the chair across from him, gingerly picking fruit off of the platter. “I can’t believe you used my manners against me,” she said, taking a bite of a strawberry.  
  
“Love, I’ve been waiting for the chance,” he gave her a goofy grin as she laughed.  
  
The couple ate slowly, giving each other small smiles from across the table and enjoying their first quiet dinner since marriage. But Elissa’s face grew worried as Alistair moved to grab a piece of cake.  
  
“What?” he said muffled, shoveling the chocolate desert into his mouth.  
  
“Leliana’s gone!” Elissa pushed away from the table, “Leliana!”  
  
“Mum, she’s gone to bed,” Lucretia appeared the in the doorway, “The master has told me to let you know that business will keep him busy this evening and that he will meet with you in the morning.”  
  
“I didn’t even hear her leave,” Elissa frowned as Lucretia kept a placid, respectful smile.  
  
“The poor girl was so tired, I spotted her looking for a washroom and I helped her to her bed for the evening,” Lucretia explained, “Besides, you must be getting tired yourself.”  
  
Alistair yawned, it might have been the cheese, the journey, or the adventure, but the maid was right, he was growing more tired by the minute.  
  
“Yes my Queen, let’s retire for the evening,” Alistair stood up, stretching, “I’m sure Leliana is fine.”  
  
Elissa nodded, moving to stand beside him, “Okay, but once we get settled, I’d like you to check on her.”  
  
“She’s in the north tower,” the maid explained, gesturing for them to follow her, “Once we get you settled, it is right down your hall.”  
  
They followed Lucie to a well-appointed guest room, free of the dust that seemed to cover every surface of the castle but just as old fashioned with art on the walls that reminded Alistair of the Chasind. Their bags had been placed on the dresser, and they both made quick order of changing, Alistair taking the opportunity to make his wife blush as he stared at her brush out her braids in front of the mirror.  
  
“Love, can you please go check on Leliana?” she asked with a pout, “I’ll be sure to stay awake until you come back.”  
  
“You promise?” he asked, slipping on his shoes.  
  
Alistair had bounded out of the room as she had started to nod, tearing off towards the tower that Lucretia had instructed. He threw open the first heavy wooden door that shut tight behind him and was greeted with three new matching door.  
  
“Leliana?” he whispered, opening the first door. Alistair was greeted by blackness, tripping over a chair and tumbling into the room.  
  
“Ow,” he held his shin, shutting his eyes in pain.  
  
But as he slowly reopened them, he found himself staring at a pale pair of legs, illuminated in candlelight, that appeared to be floating above the ground. Alistair took a long swallow before finally standing up.   
  



	6. Chapter 6

“Miss, I believe you have forgotten your pants,” Alistair gasped with surprise, as the woman pressed him into the wall. She seemed to purr as she moved against him, rubbing her icy forehead against his cheek  
  
Raven ringlets framed a round and blushing face, her lips curled in a predatory smile. Alistair tried to meet her eyes but was met with a blackness matching her dark hair. She appeared Rivaini, or would if her limbs weren’t to be cast in marble, betraying the pink of her cheeks.   
  
Her silk nightgown rose up her thigh as she leaned into him harder and ripped his night shirt’s jaggedly through the front.   
  
Alistair stumbled away, clutching his collar,  “Look, I appreciate your hospitality, but my wife is waiting and she is a big burly jealous warrior. I’ve seen her beat up lesser women for just looking at me wrong.”  
  
He flipped around to see another woman with matching auburn-color curls, cherub faced with empty eyes. She was wearing the same tiny slip of fabric as the first woman, hers revealing the same ivory skin but with freckles covering her shoulders. With a small step, she moved and finished the tear down his shirt, grinning with tightly closed crimson stained lips.  
  
They moved to circle him as Alistair saw a third woman appear, with matching curls but blonde hair.   
  
“Aren’t you Lucretia the maid?” he asked confused, while the women inched closer and he fumbled to cover himself with his hands.  
  
The blonde cackled, “These are my sisters and we are still hungry.”  
  
“I am sure there must be food in the kitchen, I mean, I know I left some on my plate,” he croaked as they started to lay their hands on him, rubbing up and down his chest.  
  
The raven hair woman snarled, revealing a set of wolfish teeth, “But I think that you smell delicious”  
  
Alistair started to pull away, allowing their talons to grasp at his clothing while he tried to escape.   
  
“No, no thank you,” he repeated calmly, over and over again as he struggled to escape their grabbing hands. Lucretia grabbed hold of his pocket and tore as Alistair felt a draft of cold air as his pants fell away.   
  
They stopped for a moment and began to laugh in unison as he tripped on the stone floor to getting away from them.   
  
“I love it when the blood is rushing,” the titian-haired sister started towards him again, eyes wide and feral, “Makes it sweeter.”  
  
Alistair started to run as the women seemed to float towards him, quickly gathering speed and laughing the entire time.  
  
“Alistair, Alistair,” they cried out in a sing-song voice, their hands reaching for him, “Don’t you want to play with us?”  
  
“Why do all of my nightmares come true?” he thought to himself, willing his legs to go faster, “Always pantless in the wrong situation.”  
  
“King, King,” they cried out again, “We’re just so hungry.”  
  
“No! no! no!” he yelled back, his gaze locking on the tower door.  
  
Alistair took a deep breath, and threw himself through the door, quickly concentrating to cleanse the area of magic and evil. As the women seemed to be thrown back, he  jumped up quickly to slam it shut. He could hear them panting on the other side of the door, calling out to him in spectral voices.  
  
“Alistair, Alistair,” he could hear their voice vibrating through his head as he stared at the door.  
  
“Dear, what is going on?” Elissa asked from behind him.  
  
Alistair turned slowly to face her, his shirt torn off and small clothes revealed.  
  
“This is not what it looks like,” he started, one of the few phrases he knew the Warden had grown accustomed to.  
  
Her eyes narrowed as she took in the scene, “I can’t wait to hear it, but we must get back to the room, Leliana has fallen ill.”  
  
“Really?” he asked, following her down the hall, “No need of a confession and apology?”  
  
She shrugged, “I trust you and I’m sure your own joy at that is masking your obvious concern for our mutual friend.”   
  
“Yes, Leliana, ill,” he frowned dramatically, “Very bad.”  
  
“Alistair, I think something may actually be wrong,” she turned around to face her husband, “She’s gone completely pale and has some sort of wound on her neck. I went to look for you both when you didn’t come back but I found her wandering the halls. She tried to hide the bite from me but I finally saw it.”  
  
“Love, I’m sorry,” his voice turned serious, “We will ask to leave immediately to get her to the nearest healer.”  
  
“Thank you,” Elissa took his hand, laying a gentle kiss on the palm, “Now, we must go, get your pants, and check on our friend.”  
  
Alistair grabbed her hand and started quickly down the hall, their footsteps echoing down the long empty corridor. They approached the room until seeing the door was swinging open.   
  
The Warden turned to him, laid one finger on her lips, and blinked away into the shadows. He held tight to the wall for a moment before Elissa came sprinting out of the room wide-eyed and frightened.  
  
“She’s gone out the window, grab your sword and let’s go!” she yelled running back into the room. Alistair ran after her, grabbed his sword as ordered, and landed flat on the ground after jumping out of the window.   
  
As he sat in the cold mud, he only wished he had remembered his pants.


	7. Chapter 7

Alistair’s tumble hadn’t lost him his quarry, as he could see Leliana moving quite rapidly over a grass-covered hill. By the time he had pulled himself to his feet, he’d lost sight of the Bard, but could see Elissa in hot pursuit.  
  
The Warden dashed across the manicured lawn, wet from the nighttime dew, and could tell from her surroundings that this part of the master’s holdings served as hunting grounds. While grander nobles might have their lodge in a remote part of the countryside, she could see three trails, not made for walking, but for chasing down foxes. The wild and dragging paws of Malbari packs had worn the path to dust, one leading downhill, and around a short cliff, one straight ahead into heavy cover, and a third, hugging the outer edge of a clearing. Leliana had drove into the bush of the middle path, and Elissa risked losing her completely.  
  
Just as he rounded the top of the hill, Alistair could see his wife vanish into the forest, and as a stitch ached across his side, he cursed himself for getting soft as a monarch, and for being unable to properly jog pantsless. The King of Ferelden pushed harder, trying to remind himself of other times he’d had to run for his life.   
  
The middle path brightened as Alistair emerged from the overgrowth, breathing hard but satisfied that it seemed he’d almost caught up with Elissa. Or at least where she stopped, as he realized what had caused her to pause.   
  
In a clearing in the woods, an iron-fenced cemetery came into sight.  The couple stepped inside together, having lost sight of Leliana. But as they moved to the center of the small space, Andraste’s feminine form holding a large urn came into view.  Stone benches flanked the sculpture’s base, and blending into the shadows on the opposite side, they could finally see two figures take shape.  
  
Leliana’s still form leaned against the black, cloaked mass. They could make out no face, but a pair of leather riding gloves held Leliana’s arm to what appeared to be a mouth.  
  
“Release her at once!” Alistair exclaimed, advancing with his blade. The shadow melted into the ground, and despite Elissa’s movement to flank it, bled into the dark patterns on the grass and vanished into the woods. Leliana’s limp body collapsed onto one of the memorial slabs, as Alistair lept out to soften her descent.  
  
“What in Andraste’s name was that?” Alistair said as he looked down at the Orlesian, whose eyes were open but seemed not to see him.  
  
“No, but he called me to come. Where has he gone?” Leliana replied, her words feverish and rapid.  
  
“I’ve never seen a spell like that before, have you Alistair?” The Warden took the officer’s blade from her husband and stood in front of them, feet spread shoulder-length apart, ready to exchange blows with anything that came at them.  
  
“Not a spell, I don’t think. Vampires are well known as shapeshifters,” Alistair hoisted Leliana into his arms, his eyes widening in shock at the fresh blood trickled from her wrists and neck.  
  
He examined the wounds more closely, “He had better not be trying to turn her into one of, ah, himself. I think we need to cut his head off, stuff garlic inside, and then burn it. Maybe not in that order though.”   
  
Leliana began to stir again, eyes darting from Alistair to Elissa. She sat up wincing, grabbing at the wounds.  
  
“Oh, something is very wrong, why am I outside and barefoot, and my neck stings so.” She raised her hand to her clavicle gingerly, frowning. “You both look terribly concerned.” Leliana paused taking in her surroundings, “And under dressed.”   
  
“Dear, you should take Leliana and go fetch my soldiers at the camp. They must have made it there by now.” Alistair said, seriousness coming back into his voice.  
  
“No, I know that I am under a spell. That’s why I came here, it is stronger inside of the manor and the gardens. I am strong, I can go get them. You should not be alone here.” Leliana stood now, and began walking across the cemetery.  
  
“Are you sure?” Elissa called out, more certain than she sounded, willing to let Leliana attempt the mission.  
  
“I have to prove to myself that my will is stronger than his. I’ll return soon, I promise!” She broke out into a full run, and the King and Queen watched her go.  
  
“At least the sun is soon to rise. They’re supposed to retire to their underground coffins filled with earth from their homeland protected from the sun.” Alistair looked at Elissa, his face set as hard as Andraste’s likeness looking over him, “You know, we could just burn his mansion down.”  
  
“I’m not sure the news of the King of Ferelden committing arson against the decrepit homes of his citizens is worth it, dear.” Elissa said, “Besides, where’s the glory in defeating your enemies when you can’t even see them?”  
  
“He’d run outside of course. Maybe screaming. They are supposed to especially dislike fire. Then I would defeat him right in front of me.” Alistair said, swishing his blade through the air in demonstration.  
  
“He’s outside now. How much harder is it to track abominations than to track a-,” Elissa sighed, “a vampire.”   
  
Alistair grinned and decided not to celebrate this little victory, choosing to follow his wife’s movement towards the gate. The two of them left the graveyard, roughly in the direction the shadow had fled.  
  
After some time spent weaving through the trees, and no other signs of the predatory shadow, the woods began to thin. Both could hear the sound of running water, and after finding slightly higher ground, could see a river in the pre-dawn haze. Nearer in the direction of the manor, a short pier had been built, and men could be seen loading boxes onto a boat.  
  
“He even has a boat! That staircase wasn’t enough?” Alistair whispered as they both crouched low to avoid being seen. “Who invites you to come and stay at his creepy vampire house while he is packing things up to go on a trip?”  
  
“How do you even know it is his? Perhaps this is how he finances his antiques habit.” Elissa said, nudging Alistair in the ribs. “Maybe we should have gone back so you could fetch your pants after all.”  
  
He reached down with his hands, patting his uncovered legs gingerly, unwilling to look down and admit his current state.  “Maker,  who forgets their pants!  There’s no way I am charging into battle or letting my troops see me like this,” Alistair said, retreating back into the treeline.  
  
“Your trousers may be a casualty of war, or maybe a sign from Andraste that you should start wearing my armor in battle,” she said, motioning to her skirt, “It does allow you the ability to kick higher.”  
  
“You will get too jealous if people start complimenting my legs all of the time,” he responded with a straight face, raising his shirt up slightly to flash even more of his thigh.  
  
She nodded sadly, “How did you know? First it will be compliments on your legs and then Leliana will write the royal ballad about the beauty of the King and not of the Queen.”  
  
They heard a set of footsteps approaching on the path from the river and quickly laid down to be obscured by nearby bushes.   
  
“Oi, the master better be happy with the job,” the younger man complained, rubbing his back dramatically, “These boxes are heavy and full of dirt.”  
  
“Don’t let him hear you complaining,’ the older man scolded, “We need to have this done by tonight for his journey.”  
  
The younger man muttered under his breath as they quickened their steps up the hill the manor.  
  
“Tonight?” Alistair whispered wide-eyed, “Can’t he do us the decency of another night to let us construct a plan?”  
  
Elissa yawned silently nodding in agreement, “Or give us a full night’s sleep before needing to do battle with the undead.”  
  
Alistair wrapped an arm around his wife who rested her head heavy on his shoulder.  
  
“Let’s go back to the manor,” he suggested, “We’ve been invited as guests, let’s use the room and head out after a few hours of rest to explore.”  
  
“Are you sure?” she asked with another yawn.  
  
He shrugged, “Rather take my chances with a vampire then spend the day questioning townsfolk without pants.”


	8. Chapter 8

Morning had begun as the pair returned to the manor, approaching the front gate instead of returning to their window.  
  
“If this place is full of enslaved guards or darkspawn wearing plate armor, I don’t want to be trapped in our room. Let’s go in the front.” Alistair whispered, crouching against the wall.  
  
“You mean where you don’t have to go out of the window again to escape?” Elissa asked, incredulously.  
  
“I most certainly do not want to go out of the window again.” The King replied, before gracefully standing up, and putting pressure on the door. It was not locked, and opened, hinges more noisy than he remembered. He looked inside and a moment passed while Elissa wondered what could explain the puzzled expression he made. With a slight twist of his head, he motioned Elissa past him.  
  
The Warden Commander crept, silent as the dead, into an empty hall. Carpets, furniture, tapestries, were all gone, and only cold stone and old dust remained.  
  
“These porters are quite the professionals, we can’t even move a wing of the castle in less than half a month.” Alistair said, entering casually. His sword held loosely at his side, peering into the dark, musty chamber, he frowned at the staircase, still there to taunt him.  
  
“You wouldn’t even know how long that takes if you hadn’t insisted that the royal barracks should be facing west towards the ocean,” Elissa realised then that no one was present, already responding to her conversational voice.  
  
“Remind me later to have Bann Teagan seize the deed, bulldoze this place, and build a windmill. I can’t believe I’ve lucked out and no one is here to see me without trousers.” Alistair’s posture was relaxed, standing straight, armed crossed with one hand regally placed on his chin. The Warden Commander shook her head, and with a quick motion, slid over to the stairs they’d ascended earlier to their room.  
  
“Fine. Remember to break his things later and leave no trace. Let’s not stretch your luck any, come on,” Elissa said furtively, now focused on her opponent and how to outsmart him. Alistair consented and followed along silently for almost a minute.  
  
“You know, presumably he’s sleeping in a box full of dirt here somewhere. All the furniture may be gone, but these pretty balusters would make fine stakes once I chop them out,” Alistair whispered, eyeing the handrail and drumming his fingers on his blade’s hilt. He only received a quick turn of the head, and exasperated glare, and a perfectly manicured finger over his wife’s lips.  
  
The second floor hallways were just as absent of people, the same doors now barely illuminated still shut. Without carpets, stands, artwork, or even the smell that all those old things produced, the manor seemed a suitable home for the dead. The door to their room was slightly ajar, just as it was left in their haste when they’d followed after Leliana. Listening at the threshold, Elissa pushed the door open just enough for her to slip through, and a moment later, pulled it wide for her husband. Their clothes and a few odd items hadn’t been touched. Elissa began changing out of her nightclothes as Alistair rummaged through their bags for a pair of pants.  
  
“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep a little?” Alistair asked as a yawn escaped her mouth.  
  
She shook her head, securing her daggers to her back, “I would probably just have nightmares.”  
  
“Agreed, the sooner I can get to our next banquet, the better,” Alistair sighed, “And please never remind me that I said that.”  
  
They both finished dressing and securing their luggage before taking a last look around the room.  
  
“Do we have everything?” Elissa peered around the unmade bed as Alistair finished pulling on his boots.  
  
“You mean besides our sanity?” he smiled up at her and she met him with a grin.  
  
“Anora would have a field day,” she laughed, taking a seat on his on lap, “King Alistair must be removed if he continues telling such ghost stories and burning manors to the ground.”  
  
Alistair embraced his wife who seemed to giggle louder as he buried his face into her neck. “Maybe it is too late,” he took a serious tone, “Maybe I’m already one of the lost souls.”  
  
She stood quickly, wiggling a finger in his face, “We will play virginal maiden and creature of the night once we have done our investigation.”  
  
He gave her a mock-frown that she continued to ignore as she slung one of their bags over her shoulder and started out of the manor.  
  
The outer grounds were as silent as the manor, with no sign of gardeners or Percival. Alistair debated searching for a horse as Elissa stowed their luggage in the empty guard’s post at the entrance.  
  
“I suppose our next step is into the village of the damned,” Alistair said, staring out at the long path, “Where is good old Percy when you need him?”  
  
“I don’t think I could get back in that carriage,” Elissa shrugged, “Who knows what has gone on in there?”  
  
Alistair held out his hand to his wife who took it tightly, “You mean besides us?”  
  
Elissa raised an eyebrow, “You were so bored and the trip was going to be so much longer.”  
  
“No complaints here,” he started their walk down the road, “You little minx.”  
  
She blushed slightly before matching his pace towards the village. The journey that had taken meer minutes with the fast gait of the horses brought them into midday until they had finally arrived in the silent town square.  
  
“I don’t feel right about this at all,” Elissa drew her weapons.  
  
Alistair drew his sword, moving to cover her back, “I don’t sense any darkspawn.”  
  
“But where is everyone?” She asked loudly, gesturing towards the empty vendor’s stalls and boarded homes.  
  
“Mid-afternoon nap?” he offered , feeling his pulse quicken with the same discomfort.  
  
She marched up to one of the homes, peering in through a dirty window, “They are all gone. It doesn’t look like anyone has lived there for months.”  
  
Alistair swallowed hard, continuing to watch for any sign of life, “Maybe we should go, wait for our men to arrive.”  
  
A lone carriage began a slow approach down the main strip of the town, seemingly unaware of the lack of traffic to wait for.  
  
“Is that- Percival!” Alistair cried out, running towards the man. Elissa followed suit, jogging over as the horses came to a stop.  
  
“Percival, I never thought I would say this, but I am so grateful to see you again,” Alistair beamed, but the older man greeted him with a confused stare.  
  
“Ser, I don’t mean to be rude, but have we met?” Percival cocked his head.  
  
“You drove us here?” Alistair responded, his face growing darker.  
  
Percival frowned, “Ser, you must have me confused, I am a messenger from Cumberland. I don’t carry passengers.”  
  
Elissa grabbed her husband’s arms, “We’re quite sorry, you look just like a friend of ours.”  
  
He tipped his hat at her, “No problem at all. But it looks like it is getting dark, I would get inside, you know what they say about this village.”  
  
“What do-,” Alistair started to ask as the carriage began to gallop away.  
  
“That was so wei-” he started again before realizing that Elissa had wandered over to what appeared to be the general store  
  
Her face appeared to be trapped in thought, piecing together the information they knew so far. Alistair paused before speaking again, if one of them had a hope of solving the puzzle, he knew that chance lay with her.  
  
“Alistair, we need to get ready for tonight immediately,” she turned worriedly, marching a path back to the forest.  
  
“Why the urgency? It is only midday?” Alistair questioned, jogging up next to her.  
  
“The names, I knew the names had been familiar,” she muttered to herself, her knuckles whitening as she tightened her grip.  
  
Alistair felt the pieces fall into place for him: Basell’s Armory, McAlbion’s General Store, and the long list of names posted on the Chanter’s Board.  
  
They had matched each of the gravestones in that tiny cemetery hidden deep in the woods.


	9. Chapter 9

He hesitated to call it a plan, the wildly unlikely combination of ideas they had constructed on their jog back to the manor.  
  
His construction of stakes was haphazard, and Alistair cursed himself for refusing any of Wynne’s offers to take him into the forest to teach him how to forage for things like wild garlic.   
  
Elissa’s idea to sneak onto the ship had almost been perfect if not followed by her hasty retreat from the unconscious porter’s body when she realized Alistair was needed to search the cargo.  
  
All of this surrounded by the knowledge that despite all of the folk tales and horror stories he had been told, that it could all be wrong.  
  
Alistair felt the last of his confidence fade with the final rays of the sunset that seemed to retreat from the forest clearing. The men had not yet arrived, meaning that either something had delayed them, or they didn’t know to come. He’d have to accept that they had to proceed outnumbered, but with the Warden Commander of Ferelden at his side, definitely not outmatched. Alistair’s frustration so far at this leg of the ship could be counted for twenty men now that it looked like he’d be able to handle this properly. With sword and shield ready for business.  
  
“We don’t have to do this,” Elissa offered, “Nobody would judge you for wanting to wait for a force.”  
  
“Love, we fought the Archdemon,” Alistair countered, “This is one vampire.”  
  
“We fought the Archdemon with several large regiments of soldiers, several powerful mages, and an armories worth of weapons,” she seemed concerned and unsure in a way Alistair had never seen, “We don’t need to run into this fight blind.”  
  
“I’m their King,” he said, meeting her eyes with confidence and care, “I have to protect my people.”  
  
She kissed him softly at the sentiment, her hands tightening in a hug around him.  
.   
“You are a great King,” Elissa rested her forehead against his.  
  
His mouth turned up in a smile, “I never get tired of hearing that.”  
  
“Even if your soldiers didn’t come,” she giggled.  
  
Alistair stepped away, drawing his weapon, “Leliana probably got distracted by a pretty flower or attractive view. Our bard is our weak link there.”  
  
Elissa gave him a nod, drawing her daggers, “Lead the way Ser.”  
  
They started their approach to the pier slowly, but their caution quickly faded as a set of shadows appeared to be waiting for them at the edge of the dock.  
  
Elissa gasped as a figure in white came into focus at the end of the pier.   
  
Leliana no longer wore her leather armor and instead was adorned in an aged and yellowing bone-colored gown. Her heavy-lidded eyes seem to acknowledge the couple, but she stood in her bare feet unable to move. A mass of black seemed to form in a mist behind her, Leliana’s attention immediately drawn to the darkness.   
  
“Leliana,” Elissa called out, holding her hand out, “Come to me.”  
  
Leliana looked back and forth, towards the tall shadow behind her and back to Elissa loudly beckoning to her. Her face was clear of intention and fear, as pale as the statue of Andraste she had tried to find refuge under.  
  
The figure seemed to take shape as a man who started to laugh loudly, stepping into the light of the lanterns laced around the dock.   
  
“King and Queen, unable to avoid a fight,” he growled, placing an arm around Leliana.   
  
“Don’t touch her,” Alistair took a step forward, drawing his sword, as Elissa pulled out her daggers.  
  
Fridric laughed at the sign of bravery, “Who is going to make me? An orphan noble and a failed Templar.”  
  
Alistair met his smirk, pulling a tarp off of the cart behind them, revealing an ornately carved coffin surrounded by a reddish soil.   
  
Fridric’s eyes grew large and angry at its sight, his arm tightening around Leliana. “How?” he asked with a vicious tone, “How did you get that?”  
  
Alistair met his glare with a beaming smile, “Because we aren’t just orphans or nobles or outcasts, we are Grey Wardens and we defeated the Archdemon. Of course we can defeat a flouncing crazy man who drinks blood.”  
  
“Besides, Leliana falls in love with everyone,” Elissa backed up her husband, “Do you think that you are really that special?”  
  
Fridric growled, bearing his teeth, “Do you think I didn’t plan for this?”   
  
He grabbed Leliana’s shoulders, dangling her over the river. Her eyes locked on his face as he spoke slowly and purposely, “You have forgotten how to swim. If I drop you into the river, take a long breath and go to sleep.”  
  
Leliana nodded slowly, her body limp in his hands, “I must have forgotten and I am so tired.”  
  
“No,” Elissa cried out, fear thick in her voice, “We will give you the coffin.”  
  
Alistair turned towards his wife, “Are you sure?”  
  
“You can give us Leliana, you can take your coffin, and you can rest well knowing I will rip out your heart if we see you again,” Elissa said defiantly, moving towards the pair.  
  
“Sisters!” Fridric called out as the three vampire women who had cornered Alistair appeared on deck, “Please grab my coffin and bring it on board.” They slowly streamed off the ship and down the dock, each giving Alistair hungry smiles.  
  
“Give us our friend!” Alistair demanded back, ignoring each grin as the women grabbed the cart and began carrying it back down the dock.  
  
Fridric rolled his eyes, “Oh humans, as if you don’t have another plan ready to go. Sadly, I won’t see it.”  
  
And with that, Leliana’s body was dropped into the river.  
  



	10. Chapter 10

On their first journey, maybe it was mid-way to Denerim or in the shadow of the Frostbacks, the Warden had almost died. Alistair remembered the bandit’s sword slicing through the air towards the center of her shoulders and he remembered feeling his body nearly move on its own to stop it. A running leap to tackle the man followed by Elissa’s scolding that he needed to learn better methods for close combat.  
  
In the same way, Alistair didn’t quite remember what happened between his feet leaving the small pier, and his body being surrounded by frigid rapidly moving water. He blinked his eyes once to see her limp form falling quickly to the bottom, the current beginning to push her further down river.  
  
He had never liked the water in the same way others had. A swimming hole was a new venue for embarrassment and waterfalls were never as beautiful when standing underneath. But the templars had insisted that all recruits could swim, could rescue, and could be the model of a modern man that they needed in their ranks.  
  
Leilana’s ivory dress billowed around her, helping to mitigate the disorientation Alistair felt from the dark and murky river. It ran surprisingly deep, explaining the size of Fridric’s boat and the path for his getaway as the river appeared to run in the direction of the Waking Sea . The bloodsucking villain would be making his retreat on it, but that didn’t matter now.  
  
Kicking off his boots as he pushed down into the darkness, Alistair reached out to grasp Leliana’s pale, bare wrist. Now, the current had him as well, and the King of Ferelden twisted in his heavy, soaked clothes like a carp evading the net. Somehow he managed to get underneath her, the willowy sleeves over his shoulders, the slumbering face placid, drifting close to his. It made the knowledge that she was drowning that much more terrifying. Ignoring the painful burning in his lungs, Alistair shored up all of his strength, and planted his bare feet on the riverbed. With one motion, he began his ascent, casting a cloud of silt kicked up about him as he climbed.  
  
As he struggled to the surface, Alistair could feel a rescuing pair of hands wrap underneath his arms. Strong hands, he thought, and familiar. Elissa hauled them both up onto the river’s shore with little effort, then stood upright to get a better look at Leiliana’s condition. Alistair had been fast enough, it seemed, and she began to cough up the huge gulp of water she’d taken in at Fridric’s command. In following with the second, however, she continued to sleep, unaware of her brush with death.  
  
Something else got Elissa’s attention, and not the fleeing ship. It was coming from the woods, whatever it was, and Alistair was too busy being dazed from the icy water to see it clearly. His wife seemed to not be concerned about what she’d seen, and turned her attention back to Alistair.  
  
“Since when did your reflexes get faster than mine?” She sat on her heels, smiling down at him, offering a hand to help him up.  
  
“I’m sure it was just a fluke,” Alistair said, accepting the offer and rising to his feet. “What’s that now? Oh yes! I have heavily armed soldiers!” The royal guard was indeed what had obtained Elissa’s attention, and they began to swiftly trot as they approached. Alistair looked out to the river, but the vessel had already disappeared over the hill and into the valley.  
  
“My liege, please forgive our tardiness!” the captain of his guard said, sweat rolling down his face from jogging in full plate armor, “that strange old man returned just as we’d finished repairing the wagon.” The soldier leans forward a little to catch his breath.  
  
“Let me guess, he led you deep into the surrounding woods, then he and his carriage somehow vanished without a trace?” Alistair let himself slip in a slightly incredulous tone, unable to resist teasing his men when he had the opportunity. After all, the real danger had passed.  
  
“I know this is unbelievable my lord, but perhaps there was some magic at work and-”  
  
“Relax Captain, I know that’s what happened. We ran into the old bugger earlier today. Didn’t recognize us at all.” Alistair turned back to the river, looking at the shoreline. “Too bad, I was almost starting to like those boots.”  
  
Leiliana began to stir, first rubbing her face, and then appearing startled that she was no longer wearing her own clothing. She sat up, to the sight of Elissa kneeling next to her. They exchanged a meaningful glance which lingered a moment, and then the Bard turned to Alistair.  
  
“I’d like to go home now, I think. Back to Denerim.”


	11. Epilogue

“Another party?” he tried to ask calmly but wasn’t surprised when it came out as a loud whine. Alistair had marched into the Warden’s dressing room when he saw the third and fourth waiters come streaming out of the kitchen.   
  
The first waiter Alistair had convinced himself was for their own personal meal.  
  
The second waiter he had decided was because there must be a guest or two staying after their return from their trip.  
  
The third and fourth waiters had been holding one of the largest cakes that Alistair had ever seen and he decided again to go right back to the source of most parties in their home.  
  
Elissa’s maid tightened her corset as Elissa met his eyes in the mirror, “It is our return celebration.”  
  
“But we just got back yesterday, I haven’t even had time to let Wynne scold me for not bringing her,” he complained, taking a seat on a large cushioned chair in the corner of the room.  
  
“Mary Alice, can you leave the King and I for a moment?” she smiled nicely at the servant who scurried from the room.  
  
As she turned to face him, Alistair felt his breath catch in his chest at her sight. Her womanly figure was encased in an evergreen gown, gold embroidered vines winding down the long sleeves and bodice. Her hair matched the design, braids wound with shining chains and pale ivory flower buds.  
  
“Do you like the dress?” she asked with a slight blush as Alistair realized he was starting, “I decided to skip the crown this time.”  
  
“Love, you are stunning, the dress is just average in comparison to the wearer,” he grinned, moving towards her to wrap his arms around her, “Maybe we could just be a few minutes late.”  
  
“This is our last party,” she held a finger in his face, taking a step away, “We will be on time and my hair will be perfect.”  
  
“Aw,” he gave her an exaggerated frown, slouching into the chair, “But your dress is beautiful.”  
  
“Tut tut, after tonight, I am spending a week only in pants, my leather boots, and one of your shirts,” she said, giving a twirl in front of the mirror.   
  
He stood up again, raising an eyebrow, “Are you sure we mustn’t be late? You can’t give a man that image and expect him to hold conversation with the lady’s brother afterwards.”  
  
“Maybe I’ll even wear my daggers on my back,” she turned, giving a coquettish smile, “We could go hunting in the morning.”  
  
“I love my wife,” Alistair shut his eyes in bliss, “You know exactly what to say.”  
  
“Now hurry along, the first guests will be arriving in an hour,” she moved over to him, pointing at the door.   
  
He had followed the order, but not before giving her a quick wink and squeeze at her waist. His valet was waiting in his dressing room with his ceremonial garb and a large wooden box that had a piece of parchment attached.   
  
“What is that?” Alistair looked over the box, giving a slight shake.  
  
The Valet held up a spruce green shirt that matched Elissa’s dress, “The Queen asked that you wait until dressed before opening it.”  
  
“What the Queen doesn’t know-,” Alistair started to say before the young man walked over with the tunic.  
  
“My Lord, what doesn’t the Queen know?” he asked, holding up the piece of clothing again.  
  
Alistair sighed before putting his arms out to allow the outfit to slip on, “It is valid point.”   
  
After several more attempts to open the box and a spirited debate about whether a man is dressed while not wearing shoes, the Valet had departed and left Alistair alone with the package.  
  
He picked up the short note resting on top:  
  
 _My King,_  
  
 _In honor of our trip and in case you ever need a tool to stop an evil vampire tart again. I think it will go excellently with your outfit for tonight._  
  
 _Yours Forever_  
  
He smiled fondly before prying open the box. Alistair gasped as the shimmering broadsword was revealed, nearly four feet of golden metal and argent leather. A beautiful blue and pearl scabbard to complement it lay beside it. The blade reminded him fondly of Elissa’s newest daggers, Volcanic Aurum, and he was pleased to have an arm to match. He lifted it gingerly at first, then appreciating its weight, in a warrior’s grasp. It was more considerable than a Denerim guardsman’s longsword, but well-balanced for a strong warrior to wield in one hand. The hilt was thick and wide, ending with forked tongues from the mouths of painstakingly carved dragons. The pommel ended in a white rock with seven translucent points, like a familiar constellation.   
  
His breath was taken away for the second time as he examined it from all angles. The dimming daylight seemed to glide over its surface, and Alistair tucked it in his sash, before departing for the stairs where Elissa was waiting to walk into their party.  
  
“My Queen,” he held out his arm.  
  
“My King,” she took it, and gave a slight curtsy.   
  
The music downstairs was ceased as the servant at the bottom of the stairs noticed them both ready to descend.   
  
“Announcing King Alistair and Queen Elissa,” he called out as the party erupted into applause and the couple descended into the room.   
  
They moved to their table at the front of the room as the party-goers mingled and chatted throughout the party. A lively string band played an upbeat collection of springtime songs, as waiters threaded between the crowd with small pastries and canapes.   
  
The various aristocracy was brought up one by one by Bann Teagan to shake Alistair’s hand as Elissa laughed with Fergus to the side of their table. She looked back to her husband before catching a glimpse of the sword resting on his back.  
  
“Where did you get the beautiful weapon on your back?” she whispered.  
  
He gave her a confused look at first before changing to a devilish grin, “Oh you minx, I’m sorry I didn’t thank you sooner for the beautiful gift, I’ll be sure to thank you properly later.”  
  
Elissa matched his previous confusion, “What are you talking about? Who gave you the sword?”  
  
“I, um, well, you did,” Alistair stuttered, his voice rising in a question, “It was waiting for me when I went to dress.”  
  
Bann Teagan cleared his throat to break up the conversation, “My King, I have a new resident of our beautiful city to introduce you to.”   
  
He stepped to the side to reveal a now-familiar ashen grin, the tall man holding out his hand in introduction, “Frederic Westmont.”  
  
Elissa dropped her wine glass in shock as Alistair met the grin with steely eyes, “Very nice to meet you. You remind me of an old friend that I was positive I would never see again.”  
  
“Oh Alistair, I see you’ve received my gift,” the man gestured to his back.  
  
Bann glared at Alistair who appeared to grow more angry at the statement, “It is a beautiful sword-.”  
  
“What brings you to my city?” Alistair interrupted placing particular emphasis on his personal ownership.  
  
Frederic took a pause, scanning the room before stopping to lock his eyes on Elissa.   
  
“I’ve heard your city has many beautiful sights and I have some unfinished business to deal with.”


End file.
